Stronger
by Dream Wreaver
Summary: It would take time, but they were stronger together. Rated T for allusions for attempted rape


More Crossposting, sorry

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Nathalie was not a woman known for blacking out no matter the circumstances. She could handle her liquor, didn't care for drugs, and wasn't of the persuasion that reacted badly even to the lightest of anesthetic. She was a strong person, and blacking out took a lot for her to do so. That rule had been played hard and fast when she began her employment for a fashion mogul turned supervillain. But for non magical induced incidents, those she was known for keeping her composure and always being aware of what was going on around her. So why was it she was regaining lucidity only to realize she was now under a shower's spray in her undegarnments. Well, she assumed, her vision was blurry which meant her glasses had been taken off. But where was she? Besides in a bathroom. Was she at home? When had she zoned out? And who had stuck her here? Her mind was blank and while somewhat terrified she wasn't physically disturbed by this development.

Okay, backtrack; she couldn't remember what had led up to this point, so what could she remember?

It had been a formal function. She remembered that. Some sort of gathering of the fashion-forward minded. The crem de la crem of the fashion world. Representatives, if not the heads, of all the major labels were to be in attendance. It was so high profile, in fact, that Gabriel had requested her to come as his escort for the evening, taking one look at her and pulling out a gown from a collection of his a few seasons past. He'd tossed it at her, told her to change because they were heading out. Nathalie had attempted to protest, she was not involved with the business creatively. She wasn't a designer, she would have no eye, no way to discern what would be haute couture or not. She knew enough about fashion only to keep from disgracing the brand when she went about Paris.

But, as was so characteristic of her employer, he somehow managed to get his way. She had been put into the gown and he'd managed to get hair and makeup artists to come and -in his words- "Do something with it."

They'd taken one look at the dress and gotten to work. In the meantime he found a spare pair of shoes lying around and had them brought to her. She'd been declared perfect and ready to go before she had any chance to even look at herself. When she asked Gabriel -who'd changed into a slightly more formal red and white suit- to let her see her appearance he'd told her that she looked fine and if she really wanted to know the pictures would likely be plastered all over social media come tomorrow morning.

So he'd placed her in the back seat of the vehicle and they'd been off. The function was held -where else- at the Grand Paris. Andre Bourgeois was schmoozing both as the mayor of the city and as owner of the hotel, attempting to network and only managing slightly above being incredibly obnoxious. Nathalie was not impressed, and she had the feeling her boss wasn't either. Their children were only friends because Mrs. Bourgeois had been a very lucrative client of the company before she too went off. She couldn't remember what the official excuse was, though she would bet a year's salary there was only the slightest modicum of truth to it.

Almost instantly Gabriel had been approached by colleagues and rivals upon their entrance. The hand that had been the curve of her torso -neither touching her hips nor her bust- was now preoccupied shaking hands of the rich and influential. Nathalie attempted to keep up but realized that almost none of the people here expected nor even wanted her input on the issues being discussed. Logical progression of thought told Nathalie that she would only be more distracting, so she silently excused herself. Given that there was no one under the age of eighteen here tonight the alcohol flowed freely. Nathalie ordered herself a glass of wine and proceeded to nurse it for a good while. She sat at the barstool, the skirt of the gown taking up a good bit of space around her and effectively acting as a border between her and the world she was observing. Couples took to the dancefloor as the band began to play. Nathalie stood and watched, watching was important at these events, because blackmail and corruption ran as rampant as creativity and design.

There were more than a few people who'd approached her. Their motives varied, some were obvious in their intentions of wanting her to divulge pertinent information, the others were trying to network and broker some sort of shot at meeting with Gabriel. The third kind were the ones who kept refilling their glasses and were too pickled to see straight. But then there was the fourth kind, boiled down to one person: a man who just couldn't take a hint.

He'd been annoying her all night, but in the face of public exposure her actions greatly affected the face of the brand. As much as Gabriel himself's. So as much as she might have wanted to, dumping her drink over his head and storming off just wasn't an option. So she kept shutting him down firmly but politely. Still, after over an hour without him still getting the idea that she wasn't interested her patience was beginning to wane.

She ordered yet another glass of wine, paired with one of water so that she might pace herself. Nathalie stared into the clear liquid, wondering when Gabriel might take notice and rescue her from this interloper. The unfortunate thing was that even if Gabriel was married and everyone here knew that, his alleged claim on a woman was worth more respect than Nathalie's own autonomy. At the this point however, she didn't care how it happened so long as the little worm was crushed underfoot and sent on his way. The glass of water was downed like a shot as she turned to scan the crowd for her boss, the glass of wine in her hand. He was still in the middle of yet another conversation. And this nuisance kept prodding her.

"Come on," he cajoled, as though this time out of the many might be different, "Just one dance? I don't bite."

Nathalie leveled a withering stare at him, "I dance with you once and you leave me alone for the rest of the evening. I mean it, you don't talk to me, you don't acknowledge me, you don't even go looking for me after this."

"Agreed," the man replied, holding out a hand, "Shall we?"

She needed another drink. Nathalie took a rather large sip of her third glass of wine and decided to do it. She was aware that giving in was neither setting a good example nor helping to fix the problem of men always getting what they want, but at this point it was either give him a dance or beat the crap out of him. And with the paparazzi just waiting for a scandal the second choice wasn't an option at all. The man began to swirl her about the dance floor. Not necessarily out of time with the music, but Nathalie thought it was a bit too uptempo for the song they were dancing too. The twirling began to happen when they were doing less extravagant moves. The room began to spin when he brought her in close. Spinning, spinning. Soon everything was spinning and that was it.

MLB

Now here she was standing beneath the spray of a shower in nothing but her undergarments not remembering where she was or how she got there. In all likelihood that bastard had drugged her drink, intending on taking her elsewhere and doing who only knew what. But why would he put her in the shower? It didn't make any sense. Well, there was only one way to find out anything and it was by finishing up here and trying to find a phone. She squinted under the deluge of water and her less than stellar vision and amended her plan slightly. First, turn off the water. Second, dry off and find her glasses. Then, find out where she was and try to call police.

What Nathalie noticed when she first got out and dried off was that the setting of the bathroom very much resembled one of the ones found in the grandest suites of the Grand Paris and that her glasses were sitting on the bathroom counter. Odd, even with his appearance at the function she hadn't taken her assailant for a man of this much wealth. She took her time drying off, tugging on a fresh and fluffy robe and using the in-house hair dryer to bring some semblance of order to her riotous wet locks. Her undergarments had been soaked through and continuing to wear them would have been counter-productive to drying off, so they were hanging on a towel rod to dry on their own. Her hair was messy, but dry and she decided she had stalled enough. Time to confront whoever waited on the other side of the door.

Nathalie had held no expectations about who she was about to face. But that didn't mean she hadn't readied a fist all the same. The room was empty, save for one other occupant, sitting on the bed with his suit jacket lying neatly next to him. His back was to her, but Nathalie had stared at it enough to recognize its owner.

"Sir?" she drew the folds of the robe closer around her.

Though he had to have heard her moving about, had to have heard the opening of the door, Gabriel's body language still spoke of surprise upon hearing her voice. Slowly he stood and turned to face her, and though his expression gave nothing away there was relief evident in his eyes.

"Nathalie," he said nothing more than her name, and yet so much more with just the simple utterance.

They stared at each other for a few moments. Suddenly remembering himself Gabriel gestured to the bed, taking a seat at its edge himself, "Sit."

Conscious of how poorly made the wrap type of clothing was when it came to staying in place Nathalie kept her arms tight about her torso as she joined him, "Sir, could you tell me what's going on?"

"How much do you remember?"

She relayed to him what she could recall. The entrance, the sitting, the people-watching, the drinking, and the annoying suitor she'd foolishly tried to mollify. He seemed surprised at that last one.

"Why would you do such a thing?" he asked her.

"I had to think of the brand Sir," she replied, "How would it look if the paparazzi caught me treating that louse how he deserved to be treated?"

"Likely no worse than how it looks now," he muttered.

Nathalie tilted her head at him, "Sir?" she inquired.

Gabriel shook his head, "Nevermind all that. After the few hours I started to wonder where you had gotten off to. Lo and behold I find you in some eager fool's arms looking fit to faint, which you did not too shortly after."

"I fear that eager fool, as you so delicately put it, spiked my drink with something."

"I gathered as much. He wanted to take you home, I asked him if he knew where it was. When he flinched I knew he had no intentions on doing the noble thing. And so I… suggested you be brought up here whilst he made a hasty retreat."

"So what was the cause for the media comment then?" she zeroed in on how convenient that ending sounded. Too convenient knowing her employer.

"You know how they get, one rescue of someone you hold in high regard and suddenly you're sleeping with them," he brushed it off with a wave of his hand, but something about it was off. It was too casual, Gabriel Agreste didn't do casual.

A glance down at the bed revealed some more telling evidence. Though he was ambidextrous Gabriel was more gesticulative with his left side whereas his right was was more utilized for design. And yet, now he was favoring his right hand to emphasize his speech. His left knuckles were red and slightly swollen.

"Sir, you didn't -by any chance- happen to have more than words with the would-be rapist, did you?"

"That's preposterous," he denied. A little too quickly for it to be the truth.

"So I can assume then that you slammed your hand in a door? That's the only other way I can imagine such damage to your knuckles would come about. And if that's the case I should have the doctor called, you might have damaged the bones-"

"Alright!" Gabriel relented, "Yes, I punched him. Are you happy now?"

Nathalie shook her head in a fond manner, "I appreciate the sentiment Sir, but that was a tad unnecessary, don't you think?"

"I value you Nathalie," he parried, "Is it really so wrong for me to want revenge on such a lowlife for nearly- he was a disgusting villain, and what I gave him is only the least of what he deserves."

"Says the one who turns people into super-powered minions in order to steal jewelry off of children."

"You know," he said, standing up from the bed and pacing a bit, "Even though I'm a villain you know the reason why I do this."

"I do."

"And you are well aware that there are some lines that even I won't cross."

"Of course," Nathalie rolled her eyes, "Who cares that half the city is a fiery wreck and ruin so long as you get the pair of magic earrings."

He leveled a very unimpressed stare at her, "I am not like him." he ground out through his teeth.

"Irregardless of your motives. You do bad things, you intend to keep doing them. I fail to see how punching a man's lights out makes you more valiant or gallant than him. You're both villains, uncaring of the consequences your actions have on everyone else."

"That is not true!"

"Personally Sir, I don't care if it's true or not. I know why you do what you do, I understand it. I sympathize with your plight. But tragic circumstances only explain terrible actions, they do not excuse them. But do you know why I say nothing? Why I remain obedient and silent? It's because I am neither your wife, nor your mother. I will not parent you and take away your toys when you misuse them. You are a grown man, and you are more than capable of deciding your course of action yourself. All I can do is the job you hired me to do. And that means I stand aside, awaiting your orders. My personal opinion does not factor into my job, but my silence does not mean I condone your actions, nor does it mean that any small gesture of kindness on your part raises my esteem of you. You alone can change that, and I know you well enough to know you won't until you've either reached your goal or died trying. Let the city burn, so long as you get your wish. But then you have the gall to say you value me."

"Why should I care?" he parried, "Why should I care about the lives of those unaffiliated with me? They are inherently meaningless! But you, you and Adrien are all I have left of a life which has now deserted me. Is it so wrong to want to keep you safe?"

It was the closest he'd ever come to saying just how important she was to him. Nathalie knew, she had acted as his anchor in the pandemonium of the Mistress' disappearance. The one who had kept him from drowning his sorrows and his sanity in the bottom of a bottle. She kept him busy, kept him engaged, and to some small extent supported his villainous tendencies because it kept him alive and driven. She didn't approve of them, but whatever kept him going had to be enough until she could convince him otherwise. Even now, she still tried.

"She wouldn't have wanted this," she said, voice softer and more melancholy than anyone had ever heard from her.

Instantly Gabriel's walls were back up, an attempt at inner strength. He shook his head, "This isn't about what she would have wanted. It's not even about what I want. It's about need, Nathalie. We need her back. Adrien needs her back."

Nathalie wanted to argue that what the boy needed was an attentive and loving parent. But now was not the time. That didn't mean her sentiments didn't go unconveyed through her stare.

Gabriel sighed, "But I fear we've digressed. This isn't about any of that. How do you feel?"

"Not upset enough to go on a destructive rampage Sir," Nathalie remarked dryly.

He looked somewhat affronted at that, "The thought hadn't even crossed my mind," Gabriel confessed, "I meant, are you alright? Mentally?"

"I am…" Nathalie paused a minute to mull her thoughts and any emotions swimming around over. But true to her name she felt, "Fine, Sir. It didn't affect me at all."

Gabriel's gaze was searching as he crouched down to meet her eyes, "Are you certain?" he certainly didn't seem to be.

"I'm fine, honestly." and it was true. Nathalie didn't feel anything. She was a Sancoeur. Sans coeur, without heart. Which only left emptiness.

MLB

The days passed on in succession. And nothing of note happened. They went to work, they dealt with the tabloids of why Gabriel Agreste had out and assaulted a man in the middle of a crowded function. Business progressed as usual. Nathalie was as calm and unruffled as ever.

It was a Saturday, Gabriel called her in from her desk to act as a notary for him as he dictated in rapid succession. They had finished the dictated documents and Nathalie had sent copies to the intended recipients, plus backup copies to the both of them. Her tablet clicked rhythmically from her nails tapping against the glass. Satisfied with her effort he waved a hand at her.

"You're free to go," he dismissed.

Nathalie nodded, "Thank you Sir."

She turned to leave, and froze. For some reason, it was hard to breathe. A wave of panic washed over her, cataclysmic in scope and inescapable. Her breathing started to quicken, even as it grew more and more difficult to draw in air. Tears welled in her eyes and streaked down her face. Her tablet clattered to the ground and Nathalie followed suit -trembling violently and just as broken as the glass screen was. The only sounds she made were incoherent sounds of abject terror. Her strength faded as she shook violently, sending her to curl up in a ball on the ground. She couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't claw her way out of the dark hole she now found herself in. it felt like she was at the bottom of a pit, the endless sky above but a tiny pinprick of light. It was suffocating but though her mind raced her body refused to cooperate.

Gabriel watched this breakdown, his own reaction about as delayed as Nathalie's had been. But seeing her fall to the ground and shake like a leaf spurred him to action. He was around his desk in less than a second, on his knees near her and uncaring of who might walk in. Nathalie was having a panic attack, and if someone was too blind or stupid to see that he would personally make them pay, he brought her back up to a sitting position, cradling her in his arms, sharing his body heat, whispering soothing words into her head. It's alright, it's going to be alright. He wished for more than the first time today that his wife was here. Her highly emotional nature made her a natural born empath. She would know just what to do to get Nathalie to calm down. The only small mercy was that she wasn't reacting violently to his touch, meaning the panic wasn't affecting her the way he'd heard it affected some -unable to even bear a touch from someone of the opposite sex.

Still, she nearly deafened him when a wail that would make a banshee proud ripped from her throat. Like a siren's call, Adrien showed up following it. He had heard that there had been an incident at the function -with the gossip tongues wagging it was impossible to keep him uninformed- but he had no idea the extent of the damage that had been done. Truth be told, neither had Gabriel, neither had Nathalie herself. But to see Nathalie, strong and ever-present Nathalie, reduced to this… for the first time since being granted it Adrien felt unworthy of his miraculous. What he wanted now was to transform and find the scum that dared to do this to someone he cared about, and finally see what might happen were his cataclysm to touch a living being. His rage boiled and seethed, and yet he found that same expression mirrors in his father's eyes. The bloodlust was there, and it startled Adrien. He so rarely had anything in common with his father, but then, Nathalie was part of the family.

Nathalie. Adrien looked at her as she shook and cried silently as the occasional keening noise escaped her. Nathalie didn't need revenge, not now. Nathalie needed exactly what Father was giving her. Comfort, security. Adrien could do that. The golden-haired boy sank to his knees and joined in, turning the embrace into a group affair. For the longest time the three of them sat like that, unmoving and unyielding; a unified front against the horrors that haunted her.

Her shaking slowly subsided, her tears stopped carving tracks in her cheeks, her breathing stabilized and the two men could feel her slowly returning to normal. Or mostly normal, the normal Nathalie would brush off the incident as though it hadn't happened. But instead this Nathalie merely pressed against the teen's chest so that Adrien would back up. It was a soft and thankful and perhaps even loving expression on her face as she spoke to him.

"Thank you Adrien," her voice was weak, and a little shaky. A souvenir from the episode, "I- I'll be with you… in a bit."

Adrien nodded as he got back to his feet. What didn't escape his notice was the hand his father still had on his assistant, rubbing over the curb of her shoulder in a comforting manner. Perhaps later, jealousy at his own lack of casual touch with his father would seep in. Perhaps Adrien would let it. But for now, he could only be thankful for his father, for being there in a way Adrien knew he couldn't. He wasn't naive, with the internet being a thing how could he, but he knew there was still a lot he had to learn about the world. And this was something that could only be learned when it happened. Adrien quietly saw himself out.

Gabriel and Nathalie continued to stay on the floor, continued to stay in that embrace. Perhaps for longer than either of them should have. She was the woman with no heart. He was the man with one of ice. She had no interest in romance. He had a wife to whom he'd pledged his eternal love. They were both strong, independent individuals. They needed no one.

That was who they were, or at the very least- those were the masks they wore. Said masks also demanded the two return for them, crying out how weak the two were on their own. And yet, they weren't alone. Not now. Perhaps they had never been. But now was not the time to focus on the past. To focus on how the perceived weakness perhaps caused their true ones. Now was a time to rise again, and face the future whatever it might have held. Apart, perhaps. Separately? Most likely. The issues would come, but they were determined to weather the storms. After all, they were stronger together.

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